BooksBarbecue
Back Game of Snipers
Chapters (74)
  1. Cover
  2. TITLES BY STEPHEN HUNTER
  3. Dedication
  4. Epigraph
  5. PART 1
  6. 1
  7. 2
  8. 3
  9. 4
  10. 5
  11. 6
  12. 7
  13. 8
  14. 9
  15. 10
  16. 11
  17. 12
  18. 13
  19. 14
  20. PART 2
  21. 15
  22. 16
  23. 17
  24. 18
  25. 19
  26. 20
  27. 21
  28. 22
  29. 23
  30. 24
  31. 25
  32. 26
  33. PART 3
  34. 27
  35. 28
  36. 29
  37. 30
  38. 31
  39. 32
  40. 33
  41. 34
  42. 35
  43. 36
  44. 37
  45. 38
  46. 39
  47. 40
  48. 41
  49. 42
  50. 43
  51. 44
  52. 45
  53. 46
  54. PART 4
  55. 47
  56. 48
  57. 49
  58. 50
  59. 51
  60. 52
  61. 53
  62. 54
  63. 55
  64. 56
  65. 57
  66. 58
  67. 59
  68. 60
  69. PART 5
  70. 61
  71. 62
  72. Acknowledgments
  73. About the Author
  74. What’s next onyour reading list?

“I can’t just walk out of my life. I have to call my folks, I have people I have to say good-bye to. I suppose I could borrow some money, but we’ve got to get a car, and that will take some time. I have contacts, and—”

“You’re an idiot child. Assume that in a short while they will know everything about you. Your picture will be flashed to every policeman in the state. They will net you by noon tomorrow. You will talk, giving them explicit description of me and an account of our conversations. You will cooperate with an artist, and a drawing will emerge. I will be the most famous man in America by five-thirty tomorrow afternoon.”

“I don’t—”

“Assume and operate on the principle of the worst of all possibilities. No other course is safe but immediate escape and evasion. Now, where can we get a car and ten thousand dollars?”

“I . . . don’t know.”

“Well, I know. In this city, in certain areas, there are many drug transactions. We will rob one of them. Do you understand? They will not go to the police. Eventually the police will hear, but by that time we will be long gone.”

Jared could not keep the look of fright off his face, or the series of dry gulps coming out of his throat or the clumsiness overcoming his limbs.

“Those guys are really tough. They will not take any shit lying down. It’s well known in the community that you do not fuck with them. Fuck with anybody, but do not fuck with dope guys.”

“Little American boy, you say you are a jihadist. This is jihad. It is about action, commitment, discomfort. It is about will. Your faith should give you that. You cannot talk and posture and affect any longer. You must become my right hand—and, thus, Allah’s right hand. You have been chosen. Now you must contribute.”

Oh, fuck, thought Jared.

•   •   •

The car was not a problem. Juba selected a ’13 Taurus out of a parking lot, jimmied the lock with his knife, ripped the plastic shielding off the keyhole, did some fast wire twisting, and the thing came to life.

The car led to the ATM, which led to eight hundred dollars in crisp twenties. Next stop: Drugland.

“You’re sure this eight hundred dollars isn’t enough? We can get a long way—”

“Suppose we need to bribe? Suppose we need a new vehicle? We will need new clothes, we will need money for motels. The one thing necessary for surviving on the run is cash. I know, I have been on the run many times. Do not think of your old life and how things used to be. You have given your life to Allah. He will do with it as He chooses.”

Great, thought Jared, who was finding transfiguration from the theoretical to the actual more troublesome than he ever imagined.